


Iron & Steel Chrysalis

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Eggsy Unwin, Dark Erotiscism, Eggsy Unwin as Excalibur, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The King's Speech, King Harry, Kingsman Eggsy, M/M, Political Aspects, Post V-Day, Power Play, Romance, Shy Harry, Slow Burn, lepidopterist Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: “Lay me to rest upon thine sweet shores, Avalon, where I shall
        valiantly bear the burden of Excalibur’s ballast. Like a single beacon
        of hope, illuminating the oppressive darkness creeping upon thy
        cresting waves, please permit these tears of mine to never fall.”~After an unexpected collision of attraction four years ago, the sweet few seconds they shared in each other's company was likened to the kiss of a butterfly...gentle and eternally fleeting. Only, as the world drowns in death and a newer, heavier, burden, fate has decided to deal its new hand. Eggsy Unwin never once expected a chance to meet the mysterious gentleman again, never mind greeting him at the Kingsman shop with a newly signed and sealed contract.Excalibur has once more been claimed by the King.





	1. Prologue: Metamorphic Genus

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Again, My Honeys,
> 
> I know I am currently busy with another multi-chapter fic, Refractory Sunset, but I had to take a bit of break from writing since I am waiting for The Golden Circle DVD to release here in New Zealand. I REALLY don't want to mess up Merlin's snark in the first chapter or write when I have only watched the film twice to capture all the details. 
> 
> Since the release is only on the 20 of December here, it's still a bit of the wait for the next chapter, sorry. I decided to get started on this piece that has been haunting me since I rewatched The King's Speech some time ago. It's considerably lighter in setting than Refractory Sunset and much sweeter, I have always loved a shy Harry...especially since I can play with him as Lepidopterist as well. It's got some political aspects and so forth, since I love that, and I want to explore a love that develops the other way around...
> 
> Meaning a Harry that falls for Eggsy's prowess as an Agent. 
> 
> Anyways, I do hope that you will enjoy this one. It was certainly a treat to write.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=jzzab)

The first time Eggsy met him, it was two days into his week-long Royal Marine Sentry posting at Buckingham Palace. As the first and last assignment he ever completed for the RM before circumstances at home forced him to drop out, the then twenty-year old had greedily memorized every single detail of those vividly bright days filled with new hope. 

  
It had been five in the afternoon, the vast sprawl of the Royal Palace Gardens spread out across a May - sun bright - horizon as the winnowing wind whispered soothing lullabies around hundreds of year old mulberry trees. Varying shades of verdant, cerulean, cream and blazing ochre were subtly illuminated by the dimming skyline as opulent palace walls rose imposingly in the distance. 

  
The Royal Guards would be changing at six p.m. that evening, his own station at the entrance to the woodlands alarmingly silent as nothing but soft songs and chirrups from nature surrounded his senses. The stifling weight of a bayonet rifle resting against his side and a heavy dark blue uniform was already beginning to drag against his consciousness, perfectly straightened shoulders shivering with a fine tremor as pearly beads of sweat began to gather heatedly at his temples. 

  
Time was sluggishly marching forward, a vast ocean of seconds and minutes stretching out into unreachable infinity as another trying hour of his shift still remained. And to think Eggsy had laughed at his peers who told him this part of training was just as gruelling, if not more so, than the first week at the CTCRM (1*). Really? Standing guard for twelve hours in full uniform, armed and only allowed a half-hour break at the halfway point without moving _shouldn’t_ be as taxing as it turned out to be. 

  
But still, it was. 

  
A slow sigh of irritation was flowing quietly passed luscious, petal, pink lips. Viridian green eyes flitting restlessly across the cloudless horizon, searching in vain for any perceptible change in the forested surroundings. There was absolutely nothing of significance to be noted however, just like it had been hauntingly silent for the last eleven hours. 

  
It was almost _too_ quiet. 

  
Strained senses were fighting valiantly against a newly defined hush, only weeks of intensive training preventing the young Marine from startling at the sudden and unexpected sound of a cracking twig. The deafening _snap_ was smoothly followed by measured and cautious footsteps heading in his direction, a slow and steady gait belaying the quiet confidence of its owner as they came to a halt several meters ahead. 

  
‘Don’t move.’ A smooth baritone ordered quietly, incredulous green eyes snapping towards the unexpected command as a breath of surprise was forced from heaving lungs in a rush. That was—. 

  
_Holy fuck_ ! He internalized in disbelief. How was it possible for a man glancing the edges of forty or so, to look so fucking _fit_ in a beige cardigan, white collared shirt and bespoke grey trousers? _Jesus Christ_! Polished black Oxfords were shifting minutely under his heavy-lidded gaze, long elegant fingers flipping open a leather sketchbook in the corner of his vision as his eyes drifted appreciatively upwards to collide heatedly with the warmest and most intense whiskey-brown irises Eggsy had ever seen. 

  
‘S-Sir, I—.’ 

  
‘Please don’t talk.’ The lilting baritone softened minutely at his confusion, a lacquered box of coloured pencils appearing out of the man’s pocket a second later as they came to rest on a blank page and skilful movements scratched out complex strokes only the artist was privy too. Eggsy was simply too stunned to speak, wondering briefly if he would be failing his sentry test by the end of the week as the older gentleman continued to flick observant glances towards his silhouette. 

  
Forcing himself to relax under the scrutiny and keep perfectly still, there was no denying that something both commanding and gentle in the stranger’s demeanour had effortlessly coaxed the prickly twenty-year-old into obeying without second thought. Something Eggsy was not used to be being exposed to. How close did someone have to be the Queen to wear semi-casual clothes at Buckingham Palace on a Saturday afternoon and direct her Guards without so much as a blink at the impropriety of the action? 

  
Also, just _how_ was he supposed to remain motionless beneath such a smouldering gaze? 

  
Carefully concealed behind rectangular tortoise-shell framed glasses, penetrating brown irises were trailing appreciatively across his form like a physical caress. The flick of a pink tongue, peeking out every now and then to wet pale lips, only accentuated perfectly coifed chocolate brown locks. Kissed with the finest, silvery, threads at the temples, the thick mass had settled in such a way that Eggsy _knew_ they would curl loosely outside a pomade shape. 

  
_Fuck_ ! The natural grace obscured in those long limbs however, most likely to tower over him by quite a few inches, seemed tightly coiled with power underneath a seemingly innocent façade. The small smile that tickled the corner of Eggsy’s lips as a stray pencil was slipped haphazardly behind the older man’s ear, lightened the heavy attraction blossoming in his gut to something closer to fondness. 

  
Mr. Gentleman seemed utterly oblivious to the sentry’s inner turmoil, utterly content with focusing on completing his task. Even as elegant fingers smeared coloured pigment across white paper and the edges of an expensive leather watch, the mess he was making didn’t even distract his attention for a second. It was both charming and sweet in an oblivious, childlike, way. 

  
The long moment of silence and casual observation shattered at the sudden and deafening call for the six-o’clock guard change. The twenty-year-old jerked involuntary in fright, a violent and heavily accented curse spilling from parted lips as the rapid shift in sensations forced him to stumble forward a few steps to catch himself. 

  
‘Buggering shit!’ A perfectly enunciated curse rang out through the clearing in tandem to his own, startling a delighted bubble of laughter from the younger sentry as viridian green eyes froze at the sight of three beautiful green butterflies flitting away from his person and into the distance. Whiskey-brown eyes were following the path of their flight with carefully consideration, roving black pupils tracing the span of their wings and vibrant colours as a wistful and satisfied smile blossomed across pale lips. 

  
The softening of the older gentleman’s previously blank expression, stirred a nervous flutter of emotion in the pit of Eggsy’s stomach as he breathed a soft apology with a cheeky dimpled smile. There was a pale dusting of pink tracing the bridge of his nose, his heart racing a painful tattoo against his chest as he dipped his head forward to conceal the simmering embarrassment skittering violently across his skin. 

  
‘ _Callophrys rubi_ ,’ A smooth baritone interrupted his thoughts. ‘Or rather, the Green Hairstreak Butterfly. The Lycaenidae family is a fascinating study here on British soil. I wasn’t really expecting to catch sight of any today, never mind three of them lounging happily on a young sentry.’ There was a hint of delight colouring the smooth tone, forcing blue-green eyes to snap upwards. 

  
‘I’m not sure if I should thank you, young man.’ The gentleman continued, his posh accent curling playfully over the words as a small smile curved the corner of his lips. ‘Or perhaps commend you for having a gentle personality. Butterflies are notorious for only taking interest in the pure of heart.’ 

  
‘Oi!’ Eggsy exclaimed deviously. ‘Y’ can’t say that, guv. That’s flirtin’ that is. ‘Ow many birds and blokes‘ve y’ pulled with that line?’ The smallest hint of a startled flush coloured the older man’s cheeks at the uncouth reply. 

  
‘I-I didn’t mean…t-that’s not what I —. I’m a Lepidopterist.’ 

  
‘Hn. Ta, guv.’ He interrupted playfully. ‘A fit bloke like you, walkin’ the Queen’s gardens studyin’ _butter_ flies. Y’ must be quite a catch, wouldn’t ‘ave minded takin’ y’ out for a stroll, Mr. Lepidopterist.’ Eggsy teased with a wink, smile widening in response to the cough and deepening blush he coaxed from the man’s previously aloof countenance. He was quite adorable awkward in that moment, shifting restlessly on his feet as whiskey brown eyes flicked up to meet viridian green with imploring embarrassment. 

  
A gentleman, so perfectly poised and likely well acquainted with the Queen of England, unable to react with the normal societal cues in the face of a chav sentry’s teasing, was undeniably cute. Not that Eggsy could allow himself to indulge in the spark of interest settled so profoundly in his gut. He was here for duty and nothing more, he couldn’t give up the hope he had found to finally distance himself from the Estate and the cycle of anguish that had become his life.   
No, it was—. 

  
‘I’m sorry,’ Mr. Lepidopterist said, finally seeming to have found his previous poise in the wake of Eggsy’s unexpected flirting and abrupt silence. ‘It wasn’t meant that way. I study butterflies you see and—.’ 

  
‘It’s alright,’ Eggsy interrupted with a genuinely regretful smile, dipping forward in a respectful bow as he glanced anxiously over his shoulder with a sigh. He really didn’t want this moment to end, there was an unnamed demand shooting through his limbs that was imploring him to stay. To see just where this delightful encounter could go. But his relief was only a few metres away and time wasn’t as free at Buckingham Palace as it was in the rest of the world. 

  
‘I was just teasin’, Sir. Gentlemen like y’ shouldn’t be playin’ with street rats like me. I’ll only get y’ into trouble.’ Eggsy chuckled self-depreciatingly, a flicker of pain shrouding the happy light that had entered his eyes as he offered a last, fleeting, smile and wink over his shoulder. ‘’M afraid, I ‘ave to go, Mr. Lepidopterist. ‘Ave good one. ‘It was nice to meet y’.’ There was not a single lie to be detected in that statement. 

  
Straightening his posture and closing off his emotions, white gloved fingertips curled professionally around the butt of a standard issue rifle as carefully controlled footsteps marched stiffly along the path towards the barracks. The silence following in Eggsy’s wake was telling enough to the gentleman’s response. 

  
Only, when he looked over his shoulder one last time, the Lepidopterist was being hastily ushered away by a man in a bespoke suit with angered steps and definite ‘personal assistant’ vibes. The truly regretful smile that was sent in his direction as their gazes connected over distance, let Eggsy know the older man had been out causing his own brand of trouble. 

  
There was an amused smile curling across petal pink lips, Mr. Lepidopterist seeming like one of those adorably eccentric people that chased after their own interests and vices regardless of the duties life expected of them. It made the young Marine feel lighter than he had in weeks, even the heavy uniform and duties laid upon his shoulders had settled down into a quieter reserve as he steeled himself for the most likely difficult week ahead. 

  
After all, Eggsy now had something precious to replay in his mind during mind-numbing shifts. And all because of a short meeting on a lazy May afternoon in the Queen’s Gardens. It was the perfect end to a gruelling, eventless, shift. 

*** 

The second time they met, Eggsy was slipping into Merlin’s office after being summoned to the shop. Arthur’s office, opulently decorated with dark heirloom furniture and rich brocade velvets, glittered imposingly in the fading afternoon sunlight as sinuous flames danced lazily in the large marble hearth. Outlined elegantly by a leather armchair in front of the massive mahogany desk, a perfectly poised gentleman was sitting gracefully with crossed legs. 

  
Those intense brown eyes stared openly at the expected intrusion from behind the rims of tortoise-shell glasses, gleaming a brilliant shade of sun-warmed whiskey the young agent would recognize anywhere in the world. _Well shit_ , Eggsy sure as _hell_ had not been expecting to come across Mr. Lepidopterist today. Never mind ever again in his life. 

  
‘Really, Eggsy. Ever heard of knocking?’ Merlin breathed with just a hint of irritated fondness, causing a cheeky smirk to tug at pink lips as viridian green eyes flicked briefly towards Kingsman’s interim Arthur. The bald Scott looked fairly uncomfortable behind a large desk without those massive plasma screen monitors to compliment his tech-wizardry skills. 

  
In fact, the twenty-four-year-old was fairly certain the man was glaring mutinously at the spread of legitimate paperwork across the desk’s surface. A silver tray with three delicate china cups and a pot of freshly brewed tea was sitting untouched by his left elbow, a lazy beckoning hand ordering the agent towards the only free seat beside their guest. 

  
Absently catching a wracking cough behind the palm of his hand, Eggsy shifted restlessly in his seat to find a more comfortable position. He had just returned from a strenuous mission on the Russian border, thank you very much. It was quite normal, he heard, to walk away from something like that with a lung infection and several painful bruises. 

  
‘This is Eggsy Unwin, one of the lead agents that helped prevent the Valentine disaster.’ Merlin continued without batting an eye. ‘He is our current Excalibur.’ Straightening the rumpled navy blue tie tucked beneath his collar, uncertain fingertips smoothed down a soft peridot green jumper Eggsy had thrown on after stepping into the shop. The soothing press of fitted charcoal trousers, skilfully concealed the soft vibrations of strain still assaulting his limbs. 

  
After escaping the medical bay with a few well places lies and deliberate flirtations only hours earlier, he wasn’t so sure he was prepared to take on another big mission quite yet. Yet, as he observed the dark haired gentleman out of the corner of his eye, he knew he personally wouldn’t mind pushing himself to the limit just to bask a few more moments in the man’s unusually soothing presence. 

  
Those intensely expressive brown eyes, having softened in the more natural lighting of the office; complemented the dove grey bespoke suit clinging sinfully to every inch of gracefully long limbs. The flash of shy smile had settled into the curve of the man’s mouth, a brief wink thrown playfully in his direction telling the spy he had _definitely_ been caught staring. 

  
Viridian green eyes widened fractionally behind black framed glasses, a slow smirk curling the corners of youthful pink lips as he playfully returned the gesture before Merlin had a chance to catch him at it. That would be just embarrassing—. 

  
‘Right,’ The clearing of a throat swiftly pushed aside the silent banter. ‘We would very much like to offer you our gratitude, Mr. Unwin.’ The smooth baritone continued, curling a soothing timbre around carefully attentive ears as a small frown ticked perfectly shaped eyebrows upwards. 

  
‘I’m sorry. We? Who? I—.’ Eggsy trailed off uncertainly, he wasn’t really following the flow of the conversation. It seemed both Mr. Lepidopterist and Merlin expected him to know something he did not. Why would this gentleman specifically come here to thank him? He gave a horrendous shudder at the ‘Mr. Unwin’, however. His bitterly offended glare, seeming to have inspired some sort of amusement in the older man as he chuckled delightfully in response. 

  
‘After all these years, Eggsy.’ He practically purred, curling and bending the syllables around his name in such a way that the twenty-four-year-old had to shift subtly in his seat. ‘You still haven’t figured out who I am? I don’t know if I should be relieved or insulted.’ Turning expectant viridian green eyes towards Merlin, the man just dropped his forehead into his palm with palpable frustration. 

  
‘Jesus _Christ_ , lad.’ He breathed after a few seconds. ‘’Ave ya been living beneath a rock yer whole life?’ The deepening Scottish brogue was betraying a simultaneous exasperated amusement. Yet, there was no mocking laughter in his gaze, just sadistic glee as Excalibur bristled at the tone. He was just about to open his mouth to retort when he was silenced again with the wave of Merlin’s hand, the Handler merely turning his attention to their guest with a polite nod. 

  
‘May I present: His Royal Highness, Prince Henry George Adair Hart. The Duke of York, Britain’s current Heir Apparent and your Arthur.’ Eggsy froze in his seat, his breath stalling painfully in his lungs as he turned wide green eyes towards the older gentleman sitting perfectly calm next to him. His mind was reeling with spinning nausea, a flush of red dusting pale cheeks as he recalled the shameless flirting from just moments and several years ago. 

  
‘A prince…’ He whispered. ‘Well, _fuck_ me.’ 

  
‘Eggsy!’ Merlin hissed scandalized. Nearly drowning out the rich burst of laughter that trickled warmly across his skin, the flush colouring his cheeks darkened a deeper red as he lowered his gaze away from the violent pleasure shimmering so brightly in whiskey-brown depths. 

  
_Jesus fuck_ ! What kind of _shite_ movie was this supposed to be? How to kill a professional spy with mortification? 

  
‘S-sorry, Sir. It’s just a bit of a surprise, innit? Wasn’t expecting it…’ He breathed surprisingly steadily, only barely clinging to his newly adapted professionalism as several strands of burnished russet locks fell distractingly across black-rimmed spectacles. Dragging a palm through parted strands to settle them back into place, Eggsy certainly did _not_ jump when a reassuring palm came to rest against his knee and a gentle expression swam into the line of his sight. 

  
‘It’s quite alright, my boy. Let me tell you, it’s been _years_ since anyone has even had the balls to swear within a kilometre of my presence. It’s really _quite_ refreshing.’ Desperately trying not to react to the warm squeeze that accompanied those words, a soft sort of hush had fallen across the office before a final pat to his shoulder pushed the Prince to his feet as he stepped towards the tea tray without another word. 

  
‘As I was saying,’ He continued conversationally. ‘We, on the behalf of the United Kingdom would like to offer you our gratitude in regards to the quick-thinking you did that day. Even though that is not quite the reason why I am here today, I’m afraid.’ 

  
‘As Merlin has already mentioned, I’ll be taking up the mantle of your Arthur as of today.’ 

  
‘Our new Arthur?’ Eggsy interrupted, brows furrowing in confusion as he saw Merlin rub his temples in the corner of his eye. 

  
‘No, Eggsy. The selection process is still in the running to fill Chester King’s position. Harry here will not be involved with the agency at all. He will be _yer_ Arthur, personally. Yer sole commanding officer for the foreseeable future. The codename: Excalibur, as I told ye, comes with a heavier price than any other knight seated at the Round Table.’ There was a pause in the Scotsman’s explanation as he waited for the younger agent to process the information. Eggsy gladly accepted the brush of a teacup against his fingertips a few tense seconds later, glancing gratefully at _Harry_ as he took his own seat again. 

  
‘All Excaliburs to date have personally and privately served the Monarchy, not Kingsman itself.’ Harry clarified. ‘Since the disastrous events of V-Day, I’ll be frank with you. The British Monarchy is in utter shambles. The Queen is bedridden with grief, my older brothers are dead and I am the only one left to fulfil the role of protecting this country.’ A reedy note of sorrow had worked itself into the Prince’s smooth tone, stirring an unexpected flash of fierce protectiveness in the younger agent’s gut. 

  
‘As I am sure you have come to know over the past three weeks, the political void left behind by Valentine’s exploding chips has brought forth a lot of power-hungry men hoping to take advantage of a country’s weakness. The Royal Court and our Parliament is no longer safe, not for me or those protecting the integrity of the Monarchy.’ 

  
‘The official announcement of my assentation has not yet been made public, never mind a date for the coronation set. However, it _will_ be happening within the next month. I have already barely slipped passed three active attempts against my life. I desperately need someone I can trust to protect the country and its interests, even if that protection falls to me as its figurehead.’ 

  
‘I don’t want the Kingdom to crumble into the same mess the Americans are currently faced with.’ Allowing a heavy sigh to spill passed his lips, Eggsy nodded his head in understanding. There was no way he could refuse a request from the King of England. He was smart enough to read between the lines. Even though he’d be giving up his position as a spy to work directly as the man’s protector, there was not a single thing he would regret. 

  
Excalibur was, after all, the King’s sword. Only, Eggsy didn’t quite feel confident enough that his abilities would qualify him for the position. He said as much in a strained whisper. Only for the Lepidopterist to stare at him with incredulous disbelief. 

  
‘Eggsy,’ He murmured coaxingly. ‘Merlin has already shown me the footage of both your training and successful missions over the last eight months. I would be honoured to have such a skilled young man standing at my side, there is not another agent I would choose besides you. Regardless of the codename that marks their name.’ 

  
_Well_ , Eggsy mourned pitifully. _That’s me fucked then_. 

  
The gentleman’s wording was telling enough of his intension, there was no way he could turn this down…especially not if he could see a proud smile curling across Harry’s lips once again or glimpse whiskey-sunlight melting like chocolate through emotionally darkened irises. 

  
Yup, Gary “Eggsy” Unwin was _definitely_ and _obscenely_ fucked.   
  


****   
  



	2. Chapter 1: Kaleidoscope Crypsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Again, My Honeys, 
> 
> I managed to finish the first chapter so long, yay. It took me slightly longer than expected but I had a blast writing it. Thank you so much for those of you who left me such lovely reviews. I was absolutely stunned, it meant the world to me. I'll be replying to them when I get the time to offer my thanks. 
> 
> I'll also be working on either a one-shot story or the next chapter of Refractory Sunset in the next week or so as I just bought the new Kingsman DVD and can finally get all my facts in order. I do hope the wait wasn't too long. I can't wait to binge watch it twenty-thousand time...
> 
> Please enjoy for now:

_Chapter 1: Kaleidoscope Crypsis_

__

__

Viridian-Peacock blue, a perfect miasma of the male _Adonis Blue’s_ dorsal view, the _Callophrys Rubi’s_ lively green body and the _Glaucopsyche Alexis’_ iridescent anterior shimmer. It was the most unique and breathtaking collision of brilliant blue-green shades Harry Hart had ever come across in his life. And it wasn’t even the composite of a rare butterfly’s wing. No, the complex colours belonged solely to the eyes of a stunning young man. 

  
Excalibur was a devastatingly handsome man of twenty-four, his burnished russet gold locks carefully parted and slicked back with sweet smelling pomade as assured footsteps led the Duke of York back towards the front of the Kingsman shop. The agent was several inches shorter than Harry himself, the perfect height to fit comfortably in the circle of the older man’s arms or fill the hollow space left behind in his bed. Not to mention the seemingly deceptive, boyish, vulnerability that clung to his perfectly relaxed posture. 

  
Harry was _not_ fooled, however. Eggsy had the broad-shouldered frame of a perfectly lethal soldier beneath that soft looking cashmere jumper and bespoke charcoal grey trousers. A history in gymnastics, inner-city parkour and a lifetime of light-fingered finesse on the streets had undoubtedly gifted him that sinuous and deadly gait. It was unlike the snobbish posturing and upper-class arrogance Harry was used to seeing in and around the Monarchy. 

  
Cheeky little shit that Eggsy was, he _knew_ it too. 

  
He was grinning cockily over his shoulder, lively enjoyment pigmenting bright viridian green irises a deeper, more sensual, blue. The tip of a saliva-wet tongue was dragging deliberately slow across luscious, petal, pink lips; the bright flash of a vermillion red split in the plush surface (no doubt from his most recent mission) giving the ‘tailor’ a finely razored edge of death. 

  
‘Y’r gonna _love_ this, guv.’ Eggsy’s teased, briefly forgetting in whose presence he was standing. ‘‘M willing to bet y’ve never been to Fitting Room 3 before, even though y’d look right fit lording in there…all perfectly dressed up and lethal.’ Coughing discretely to conceal the dusting of pink that rose across his cheeks, Harry felt rather out of his depth as he was ushered forward with a gentle hand on the small of his back and the sassiest of smiles dimpling youthful cheeks up at him. 

  
_Fuck!_ The boy was a teasing little shit! Even though he could clearly see the steely resolve reflected underneath the playfulness of the boy’s gaze, there was no mistaking he was just as much a professional at his job as Merlin was. Albeit, with a more unusual and unassuming air. 

  
‘Dagonet has cleared out the shop for your visit, Sir. Security purposes I am told.’ The twenty-four-year-old continued in a more subdued tone, tapping an affirmative rhythm against the side of his glasses. ‘If I am going to be stationed as your protector twenty-four-seven, I’m going to have to stock-up.’ Startling visibly at the smoothly enunciated accent, Harry barely had the time to wonder at its abrupt appearance before he was led across the aforementioned fitting room’s threshold. 

  
Whiskey-brown eyes collided briefly with viridian green in the reflection of a three-tiered mirror, the younger agent’s smaller frame slipping silently behind him as the heavy oak door clicked shut with the toe of a polished Oxford’s deliberate nudge. The small, enclosed, space was rapidly filling with the intoxicating aroma of freshly-brewed Earl Grey tea, clotted cream, fiery amber, tailor’s chalk and blazing gunpowder. 

  
It was a _dangerously_ addictive aroma, the lilting fragrance having sunk deeply into light-green cashmere wool and youthfully smooth skin. Harry wanted nothing more than to lean forward and nose his way up the side a vulnerable throat, to worry pale flesh between sharp canines and see if Eggsy tasted just as good as he smelt. Or if he could just as easily draw the most delightful breathy moans from between lush petal pink lips—. 

  
_Shit!_ Swiftly averting whiskey-brown eyes lest they betray the subtle hitch of his breath, perfectly manicured nails dug painfully deep into the palm of his hand as he desperately sought to ground the sensations rolling like flame across his skin. It had been many years since the fifty-three-year-old Lepidopterist had been so affected by another person’s eclipsing presence. To selfishly want to claw his way beneath their skin and lose himself in their entire existence, to entwine their soul around his fingertips and—. 

  
‘If you’d follow me, Your Majesty. The armoury is this way,’ Startling violently at the distant sound of ‘Your Majesty’ falling from previously teasing lips, a heavy and reluctant sorrow flowed deeply within Harry’s consciousness as he couldn’t help but be reminded of the heavy duty now resting solely upon his shoulders. He would be assuming the fucking throne of England in less than a month, a responsibility he had never once wanted for himself. 

  
There was a bloody good reason why the Duke of York was so hard to pinpoint despite his many titles and professions, he was a _fiercely_ private person. And after V-Day, _everything_ he had treasured had crumbled to ash. He could no longer escape the burdens woven through the Royal Family tapestry and blood, no matter how much he wished to hole himself away somewhere in Scotland and study rare butterflies with no connection to the outside world. 

  
‘Please, Eggsy.’ He implored quietly distressed. ‘It’s Harry, just _Harry_. I rather like being _my_ self around those I trust with no deference and constant propriety. And since you are bound to be closer to me than anyone else, please be _your_ self in return. I’ll never ask you to satisfy some out-dated shit custom instilled in thirteen-fuck-hundred sometime.’ Glancing towards the mirror with a slight smirk curling the corner of his lips, whiskey-brown orbs traced the flicker of joy flitting across a previously closed-off expression as the younger man’s smile settled into something just shy of belligerently devious. 

  
‘Y’ prefer me when I’m like this, guv? I’m sure I’ll drive y’ off yer head by the end of the week.’ Before the older gentleman could correct that assumption however, a softer and more understanding expression flickered across viridian green depths. 

  
‘I understand, ‘Arry. Yeah?’ Eggsy continued. ‘Y’ want te be y’self as much as possible, jus’ like me when I’m on me own.’ Barely concealing the shudder that transversed his spine at the heavily accented _‘’Arry’_ falling from petal pink lips, whiskey-brown eyes darkened considerably in the room’s poor lighting as a hesitant but soothing touch came to rest upon his shoulder. 

  
That was another first for the future Monarch, people were not permitted to touch royalty without them initiating contact first. Alas, this sweet boy, so gentle and considerate, was determined to treat him like any other normal human being. It was both refreshing and intensely disorientating at the same time. 

  
‘So, y’ wanna see a top secret spy armoury, ‘Arry?’ Eggsy teased with waggling eyebrows, gun calloused fingertips tugging an unassuming hook downwards to their left. ‘We ain’t goin’ up or down like Fitting Room One or Two, we’ll be tumblin’ _side_ ways.’ Punctuating his words with the distinctive hiss of hydraulic locks sliding out of place, a near invisible green-wallpapered door swung inwards towards a small tiled shower and sink annex. 

  
Lifting an incredulous brow at the sheepish expression that crossed the agent’s features as he realized what he said, Harry kept a careful two steps behind polished black Oxfords as Eggsy led them deeper into an open display room decorated with terracotta tiles, wall to ceiling beige velvet display cases and no-doubt an endless array of lethal spy accessories. 

  
Calloused fingertips wasted no time in sliding the hem of a cashmere jumper over a perfectly coiffed head, powerfully lithe muscles rolling sensually with silken movements as tailored white fabric conformed to the contours a flawlessly sculpted back. The twenty-four-year-old agent was completely oblivious to the effect his casual shimmy was having on his princely companion, the wave of a hand merely directing the older man to one of the tartan ottomans as he sauntered towards the display of Kingsman pistols. 

  
‘I’m only gonna take the basics fer now since I ‘ave not had the chance to analyze the threats closest te y’.’ Eggsy continued in blissful ignorance; well-practiced movements slipping a black leather holster, tailored to fit the small of his back, into place as he loaded one of the two dual-barrel pistols he usually carried. The smooth slide of a clip sliding seamlessly into place, soon led to adjusting the sight by resting the muzzle over his forearm to check its accuracy before repeating the fifty-second process with the other gun as well. 

  
‘Perfect,’ He intoned triumphantly, newly loaded pistols impeccably situated against the sensual dip of his spine as he reached for his discarded jumper. Throwing a teasing wink over his shoulder before smoothing the indulgent fabric over his short frame again, Eggsy strategically stepped away from the display case to pursue the rest of Fitting Room 3. 

  
Harry’s mouth had gone completely dry over the course of the last three minutes, whiskey coloured orbs lidded heavily behind long lashes as they shamelessly roamed the contours of peridot-green cashmere to hopefully catch sight of a deadly holster again. Only, the soft wool had been perfectly tailored against detection, the woollen ridges only drawing attention to the generous swell of Excalibur’s ass and perfectly muscled thighs outlined by bespoke charcoal grey trousers. 

  
_Shit!_ Excalibur was absolutely _perfect_. Harry would not endeavour to change a single thing about the young man, not even if it felt like he was slowly losing his mind in the wake of sauntering hips and confident, playful, smirks. Watching raptly as calloused fingertips slipped a golden signet ring onto the agent’s right pinkie, an expensive ivory-faced Bremont soon completed the gentlemanly cache before steady fingers reached upwards to comb back a few escaped russet gold locks.  
‘’re y’ trained in any weapons, ‘Arry?’ 

  
‘I may have had a stint as an officer in the RM a long time ago, but I haven’t exactly felt the need to keep up my marksmanship. I am a Lepidopterist, Eggsy, a pacifist. I have a PhD in butterflies, they don’t tend to shoot back.’ Delighted at the snort of laughter that spilled from between petal pink lips, an answering smile crossed the older man’s features as he watched arched eyebrows furrow deep in thought. 

  
‘Right. So y’ don’t like initiating violence, I can work with that. But, if I handed y’ a gun and told y’ te shoot to protect y’rself, y’ could right?’ 

  
‘Yes, my boy. I _was_ a sniper.’ 

  
‘Well, fuck me.’ Eggsy breathed in surprise, determined not to watch the older gentleman’s expression lest he lose himself as he stepped towards the glasses display case. 

  
‘Those prescription?’ Motioning to the tortoise-shell framed glasses perched on Harry’s nose, the Prince graciously nodded his head in affirmation despite the disappointed ‘tsk’ that hissed between the younger agent’s teeth. That was going to make things a lot more difficult, Eggsy thought to himself. Taking his time to select a pair of wayfarers and plain tortoise-shell frames that was almost identical to Harry’s current pair, he swiftly shut them away in the cases provided before placing them into his pocket. 

  
‘Y’ know y’r prescription?’ At the answering negative, Eggsy was quick to offer Harry a reassuring smile. ‘That’s fine. Merlin’ll be able te hack y’r files in ten minutes. May take ‘bout a week te fit them with the correct lenses, though.’ He continued absently, gliding passed the ottomans, tiled annex and reopening the door to the fitting room proper. 

  
‘Considering their importance, though; it’ll probably take less than five.’ As they passed the threshold into the small fitting room, sparks of pure sensation crackled near-visibly through the air the moment their shoulders brushed together. Harry was so startled by the invasion of his personal space that he barely noticed the fleeting caress of flighty-fingertips licking heated flames across his palm. Glancing down wide-eyed at the perfect golden circle sitting innocuously in the space where Eggsy’s fingers had been mere seconds previously, time seemed to have screeched to an abrupt halt.  


‘What—?’  


‘Signet ring. Touch the contact behind the ring,’ Eggsy demonstrated, the scent and sound of singed metal prickling pungently through the air before dissipating the moment his shifted his thumb backwards. ‘It’ll deliver fifty-thousand volts to stun a target, may knock them out fer a good few hours.’ 

  
‘Since y’ don’t like violence, ‘Arry. I think it’ll suit y’ better than a pistol or Rainmaker.’ Harry was stunned by the younger man’s careful consideration. He had been right when he called Eggsy a pure-hearted soul all those years ago, not many would have had the courtesy to accommodate his preferences without looking for something in return. And as he gazed into perfectly sincere viridian green depths, he could not detect a single selfish motivation flickering across the colourful surface. 

  
Eggsy’s actions were born purely of kindness, not conceit. 

  
Watching fascinated as a lithe frame weaved lazily towards the shop’s front counter, a quick and quiet conversation passed between the attendant and agent as two glasses cases were handed over with affirmation. Eggsy’s smile was blindingly bright as he turned back to Harry, near-silent footsteps gliding predatorily over tiled floors as time screeched to an abrupt halt. 

  
_God,_ the boy was simply _beautiful_ —. 

  
‘So, ‘Arry, how likely ‘re y’ to be recognized in London?’ 

  
‘Since I’m not really that well known outside of noble circles, I would say it depends on the time and location. Why?’ 

  
‘Great, it’s still early ‘nough. Means we can get te know each other over a pint, proper British-like, y’ know? Without havin’ te worry about deploying them weapons, that is. Or scrambling the press cameras.’ He tapped his Bremont suggestively, belaying the secrets concealed within its dials and golden buttons. 

  
‘Best te take advantage of y’r anonymity whilst y’ still can. Y’ look like y’ need a drink.’ Harry couldn’t disagree with that, he had often snuck out of the Royal Palace just to transverse urban London in his youth. A tradition he still carried on with till this day. Although it had been a while since he had been in a proper British pub without having to worry about threats to his life or relentless security detail following him. 

  
‘Alright, Eggsy. But we have to be back at the Palace by six. I have a meeting at seven.’ 

**** 

Humming a quiet melody to himself in the bespoke leather confines of a shared Kingsman taxi, Eggsy tried desperately not to think of just how close he was sitting to his charge, their legs brushing together every now and then, as the lazy mid-afternoon cityscape continued to flash monochrome grey outside bulletproof windows. 

  
Eggsy was in awe at his own daring suggestion, wondering briefly just where the _hell_ he found the courage to ask the future bloody King of England out for a pint on a Thursday afternoon. But then again, the subtle dark circles drawn melancholically beneath beautiful whiskey-brown eyes was telling enough of the man’s internal upheaval. He had looked so weary and withdrawn beneath the soft lighting of the tailor shop, perhaps only a few days away from cracking that lovely, gentlemanly, veneer. 

  
It couldn’t have been easy to have lost so much family in the space of a single day, never mind having been kept captive by a psychotic megalomaniac for several torturous weeks. Harry seemed more like the type of person to enjoy studying his butterflies in peace rather than being coaxed into ruling a fractured nation. It was a fact that spoke volumes to the younger agent’s deep seated compassion. The future Monarch was a quiet, shy, man that was not yet ready for the burdens heaped upon his shoulders. 

  
And the more Excalibur knew of the Prince’s personality quirks, the easier it would be to stand faithfully by his side. Or so he told himself. It was not at _all_ because of the inexplicable, selfish, desire he had to know everything and anything about the older man’s soothing and gentle presence. 

  
Even now, peaking discretely from beneath the curl of long lashes; the twenty-four-year-old couldn’t help the surge of delight warming his insides as Harry slowly relaxed the deeper they travelled into London. The small, satisfied, quirk of pale lips; reflected the agent’s own answering grin as viridian green eyes continuously observed every minute shift in the Lepidopterist’s expression. 

  
‘We’re approaching your destination, sirs.’ An unexpected voice interjected suddenly, causing the younger agent to tighten his grip violently around the hilt of a familiar black Rainmaker. The black London taxi had come to a puttering halt outside the _au fait_ Black Prince, graceful footsteps leading the young tailor out of the car as he crossed the cobbled pavement to open the door for the Duke of York. 

  
A brief shudder of arousal shifted casually down the length of his spine however, the moment the taller man slid graciously out of his seat and straightened an impressive hundred-and-eighty-seven centimetre frame. Leaning down slightly to accommodate Eggsy’s nine centimetre shorter frame, the faintest of breaths tickled the shell of a delicate ear the moment a perfectly enunciated ‘thank you’ whispered passed pale lips. 

  
‘W-wait, ‘Arry!’ Eggsy cried suddenly, a vibrant flush dusting the bridge of his nose as desperate fingertips grabbed hold of perfectly tailored dove-grey fabric. Successfully halting the progress of polished black Oxfords towards a double door entrance, a trembling palm came to rest precariously over the slow beat of Harry’s heart as he glanced imploringly into whiskey-brown depths. 

  
‘Sorry, can’t let you go in there, lookin’ like that.’ He murmured apologetically, a flighty forefinger and thumb gliding sensually across dark blue silk to undo an expensive tie before a flash of shivering desire ignited hauntingly beneath youthfully gold skin. The Prince’s breath of warm surprise, bitten off into a near undetectable moan, tickled playfully across the downy tips of russet blonde locks as time suspended itself on a string. 

  
‘We’ll be guaranteed anonymity ‘ere on the edge of the Estate, ‘specially if y’r with me.’ Eggsy continued abashedly. ‘But lookin’ a bit too put together in a place like this is as dangerous as walkin’ through Valentine’s bunker without weapons.’ Slipping the newly divested strip of fabric into the pocket of his beige winter coat; Eggsy swiftly unbuttoned the first two pins of Harry’s neat white dress shirt before hooking his umbrella over his left forearm and taking a precautionary step back to observe his work. 

  
It wasn’t quite right—. 

  
‘May I?’ Slowly reaching his hands towards perfectly coiffed chocolate brown locks so as to not startle the man, a grin of pure satisfaction kissed the corner of petal pink lips as a slightly reserved but trusting nod urged him forward. Shifting to the tip of his toes to stretch his shorter frame a few inches higher, Eggsy tried desperately not to think of just how little space was left between their clothed chests as a quiet exhalation breathed intimately against the seam of his lips. 

  
_Jesus Christ!_ The brief pleasure was like lightning travelling from the back of his neck to the tips of his toes, a plush bottom lip caught headily between worrying teeth as telegraphed movements gave the King enough time to pull away if he truly wished to. He did not move, however. 

  
The instant careful fingers sunk into luxuriously woven chocolate locks, a ragged breath of surprise hitched painfully in the back of Excalibur’s throat. 

  
_Fuck_ , but it was soft. Absolutely perfect as strands shifted like water between gun-calloused fingertips. He took great care to separate the threads from sweet-smelling pomade, a chuckle of pure joy spilling passed petal pink lips as silver-threaded filaments curled into a deliciously, beatific, mess. _Oh_ , but it was beautiful. The style definitely more suited to the Prince’s eccentric nature. 

  
Making sure to flip a curling fringe backwards over its natural twist, Eggsy skilfully crafted a softer and more delicate debonair coif before brushing the longer and more unmanageable curls behind elegantly formed ears. A few restless twirls still escaped the new placement however, drawing a helplessly besotted smile from pink lips as viridian green eyes sparkled brilliant blue-green in the fractured sunlight. 

  
‘There y’ go, guv. Now y’ look more relaxed.’ Eggsy winked playfully, briefly resting the tip of his umbrella on the ground before placing a leading palm on the small of Harry’s back. ‘Still every inch the King.’ He promised before crossing the doorway into the darkened, traditional, pub. 

  
After placing their orders at the bar, Eggsy made sure to keep Harry in the line of his sight as the older gentleman took a seat in one of the free booths at the back of the pub. Constantly scanning the shadowed corners for any possible threat, absent fingertips pushed the sleeves of his white dress shirt and peridot green jumper towards his elbows as he rolled his shoulders to get rid of the restrictive stiffness his previous mission had instilled into his lithe frame. 

  
His beige thigh-length coat was hanging from one of the hooks beside the bar, carefully concealing the fact that it came with a thousand-pound plus price tag. Since the Black Prince was naturally quiet after lunchtime and he had practically grown up in its confines, Eggsy had chosen it specifically for its familiarity and the usual guarantee that no one was stupid enough to cause trouble whilst he was there. 

  
Well, usually. The young agent could not speak for Dean or his mutts, despite the beating Percival had visited upon them a year ago. It had not been easy getting his mother and sister away from this side of London without cracking open a few skulls. But then again, there was something to be said for stray dogs biting and yapping regardless of knowing just how outmatched they were.  
At least the beer was good, he reasoned. The best he had tasted in all of London. 

  
Toasting the barman with the slight dip of his head as he collected their order, a smooth turn on his heel led the twenty-four-year-old back to Harry’s side as he settled himself on the opposite side of the booth. In the dim autumn sunlight streaming through dust smeared window, the heavy scent of alcohol and stale cigarettes was swirling pungently around greasy fried foods and cheap lemon floor cleaner. It wasn’t the most pleasant of aromas Eggsy had ever smelt, but it seemed to relax the subtle heaviness weaved between his shoulders. 

  
‘Guinness fer y’.’ He placed the dark brew on a wooden coaster before its owner, his own pale ale smearing frothy white liquid across the top of his lip as he tasted the smooth slide of cool bitterness down his throat. It was a refreshing heaven, a small smile sigh of relief exhaled from the depths of his lungs as he relaxed further back into a cushioned seat. 

  
‘So, ‘Arry. Why butterflies? I thought the Monarchy only went into politics and public service.’ Realizing that the Prince was not going to open the conversation anytime soon, Eggsy had decided to take over their introductions as he noted the increasingly dark thoughts swirling wildly behind whiskey-brown eyes. Whatever Harry was thinking of, a distraction seemed to be the best way to snap him out of the silence that had fallen since their drive from the shop. 

  
It wasn’t that Harry was ignoring him, no. He was distracted enough by his own inner turmoil. Eggsy had seen the same look reflected in his own eyes for long enough to recognize it in others. A fact that made him want to soothe away the anguish he could imagine lingering within the older man’s soul, swirling and twisting his thoughts in and out of a daze he only seemed to escape when their eyes collided briefly over the table or talk turned towards his chosen profession. 

  
‘There are exceptions,’ A delighted, teasing, smirk bloomed bitter-sweet across pale lips, urging the younger agent forward in his seat as he leaned his elbows on the wooden table despite proper etiquette. ‘Mother allowed me to pursue academics instead of staying in the Royal Marines for the sole reason that I wasn’t the direct Heir. That and she couldn’t separate me from the Palace Butterfly Collection grandfather helped me build upon.’ 

  
‘The very first butterfly I pinned was an _Adonis Blue_ when I was four, it was love at first sight as they saying goes. Only, I preferred watching them flitting about the Palace Gardens alive rather than the dead specimens kept in the stiff collection room.’ 

  
‘There is nothing more beautiful than catching sight of a butterfly’s wings, mid-flutter, bedecked in the frosted dew of a summer dawn.’ Listening intently to the vivid imagery Harry painted of his passion, Eggsy found himself drinking in the rich flow of a soothing baritone as its gentle lull betrayed the older gentleman’s growing excitement. 

  
He was slowly losing his awareness of his surroundings as the minutes disappeared into an hour, a rookie mistake that soon came to bite him in the arse as the distinctive sound of a pub door swung violently open and forced viridian green eyes to collide with a figure he never hoped to see in his life ever again. The fact that the man interrupted the beautiful analogy of Harry’s summer in the wilds of Scotland researching Celestial Moths after his graduation from Oxford, was enough to immediately stiffen the younger agent’s spine as an old and instinctive fear caked like mud across his skin. 

  
_Fuck!_

  
‘The _fuck_ ‘re y’ doing ‘ere, Mugsy?! Y’ takin’ the fuckin’ piss?’ 

  
‘I don’t remember you owning this establishment Dean,’ He hissed warningly, distinctly aware of concerned whiskey-brown eyes colliding briefly with viridian green as steady fingertips curled deliberately tight across the hilt of his Rainmaker. There was no need to get into a fight, he reminded himself. He had risen above his stepfather and his cronies’ provocation a long time ago, having cast it aside the moment he had beaten the man to a pulp before taking his mother and sister away from the Estates over a month ago. 

  
‘I’m so sorry, ‘Arry.’ He whispered with genuine regret. They had only just started on their second round of drinks and he had just begun to relax enough to tell the older man about his own youthful adventures on the gymnastics mats. The subtle sexual tension filling the air between them had already soured with the bitter tang of crackling anger, the shuffle of feet surrounding their table as Dean reached out a hand to grip Eggsy’s arm in an attempt to drag him from his seat. 

  
‘Fuckin’ rent boy, y’ can’t do anything but fall te y’r knees in front of old, rich, geezers. Found y’rself a proper Sugar Daddy this time, eh? Ya fuckin’ freak—.’ 

  
‘Don’t.’ Eggsy warned icily, his voice colder than the Arctic Ocean as a swift twirl of his umbrella had the man’s elbow wedged painfully behind his back and polished Oxfords kicked his legs from under him to force him to his knees. ‘’Re ‘y goin’ te walk away quietly and apologize or do I ‘ave to teach y’ ‘ow to kneel in front of y’r betters?’ The young ‘tailor’ did not even blink as two shadows loomed on either side of him in an attempt of intimidation. 

  
He snorted quietly. Really? Six against one? He sure as hell had faced worse odds than that _and_ survived without a single scrape. It was almost laughable that they thought he’d be affected by their display. The grin that crossed petal pink lips was unforgivingly sharp, sure strides stepping further away from the booth towards the centre of the bar as he tapped the tip of black umbrella impatiently against the tiled floor. 

  
‘Come on, then.’ He beckoned playfully, twitching fingertips staying well away from the small of his back in a desperate attempt to regain control of his anger. If he gave in to the urge to draw his dual-barrel pistols and finish this confrontation in the next three seconds, there was no hell generous enough to spare their souls from his true wrath. 

  
And heaven do _help_ the earth if anyone so much as looked towards Harry the wrong way again or insult his gentle character. He was Excalibur, the King’s aide and Knight. Destruction and deadly poise had long since weaved together a naturally protective nature deep within him, a lethality Harry Hart had drawn out from deep within his soul. 

**** 

It was a macabre dance of dominion and grace that followed, lethal legs never once miss stepping a swift turn on polished black Oxfords or the hilt of Kingsman Rainmaker dragging hard enough to shatter bone and choke the life out of vulnerable necks. Eggsy had impeccable control of his body, swaying with preternatural elegance honed through years of gymnastic flexibility and intensive weapons training. 

  
He was a vision of black, green and russet gold; laying waste to his targets one by one as they fell to the floor in unabashed disgrace. Harry simply couldn’t take his eyes off the younger man’s deadly ballet, shifting subtly to cross his legs beneath the table as he remembered Excalibur had stepped up to defend the honour of _his_ character. 

  
The all-consuming rage that had flashed across viridian green depths had not been when Eggsy’s dignity had been insulted, but when Harry’s honour had been questioned. That in itself was sweet, that this young man he had only met once before in a brief encounter was willing to lay waste to a group of thugs simply because they had chosen to insult the wrong person. 

  
Even now, standing tall amongst the bodies of his fallen victims, Eggsy was a vision of otherworldly beauty and debonair poise. It had taken less than a minute for him to halt the altercation, the pad of his thumb coming up to swipe away several droplets of blood escaping the re-opened split in his bottom lip. Fine muscle strain was wracking unexpectedly shivers across effortlessly straightened shoulders, viridian green orbs searching listlessly for whiskey-brown depths as slightly slower and more uncertain footsteps led him across the last few meters towards his seat. 

  
‘Sorry ‘bout that, guv. Know y’ don’t like violence but—.’ Holding up his hand to stall the younger agent’s wholly unnecessary apology, Harry graciously inclined his head towards the seat across from him in invitation as he thoughtfully twisted a near empty pint of Guinness in the palm of his hand. Offering a gentle smile of reassurance the moment the young agent slid shakily back into his seat, he barely twitched in surprise when an answering text to the one he had sent off a few seconds before the altercation, resounded deafeningly from the confines of his waistcoat pocket. 

  
Harry couldn’t let Eggsy do all the hard work himself, he mused. Merlin, thorough bastard that he was; had prepared the future Monarch with enough emergency, clean-up and established work protocols over the last thirty years that he could completely wipe out Buckingham Palace without getting caught. Now, all he had to do was write out a single phrase or number, ‘Oxfords not Brogues’, and use them to his advantage. 

  
Not that a pub brawl was need enough to employ the more deadly and complex codes he was intrinsically aware of, mind you. 

  
‘It’s perfectly alright, my dear boy.’ He continued softly. ‘I’ve been in worse situations than this. I’m already well aware of your astonishing level of skill, this way you can say you passed the job interview entirely on your own merits. I wouldn’t have taken you on as my Excalibur if I didn’t already trust you implicitly, Eggsy.’ 

  
‘And that,’ Harry nodded in the direction of several unconscious men sprawled across the floor. ‘Is but a small indication of the lengths you will go to protect me, whether from a trained threat or an unexpected one. There is absolutely _nothing_ for you to apologize for, regardless of how the confrontation seems to have started.’ Watching intently as a small flush of pleasure rose high across pale cheeks, a tentatively relieved smile tickled the young man’s lips upwards as he leaned forward slightly to unroll his sleeves. There was not a single drop of blood staining the pristine white surface or peridot-green wool, a skilled indication of just _how_ good Excalibur was at his job. 

  
Harry was closely scrutinising the back of Eggsy’s hand as he reached it upwards to capture another vermillion red drop before it could tumble towards the table’s wooden surface. An unamused ‘tsk’ was falling freely from parted lips before he could reign it in, the Duke of York reaching assured fingers towards his waist-coat pocket as he withdrew a dark navy blue handkerchief. That simply would _not_ do, he would not sit by and watch that beautiful cashmere wool besmirched by blood and strife. 

  
‘Would you mind leaning forward a bit, Eggsy?’ Ridiculously pleased when the younger man did not so much as blink at the request before doing as was told, slightly unsteady fingers tipped back a shyly lowered head as he brushed dark blue silk across a sluggishly bleeding wound. The agent’s own answering tremors were vibrating against the lepidopterist’s fingertips as viridian green irises lidded lazily behind the fan of long black lashes. 

  
It was simply breathtaking how easily Eggsy responded to the King’s touch, the tip of a moist pink tongue chasing timidly after the pad of his thumb as copper red coloured its surface and darkening green irises cast a curious inquiry at lightening honey-gold orbs. Harry could tell that the young Kingsman agent had not grown up in the most loving of environments by that small action alone, he seemed to drink up the praise and affection like a starved child. 

  
Dappled intermittently in fractured shafts of sunlight, delicately woven copper locks glittered like burnished filigree in the darkening dusk as not a single strand of hair dared to shift out of place. Viridian green eyes were shimmering with pure intrigue from the shadows of hooded eyelashes, an imploring question remaining unanswered within honeyed whiskey-brown depths as Harry tried desperately not to show the sheer fondness and arousal thickening like slow-moving treacle throughout his blood. 

  
With the palm of his hand cupped protectively around a sharp jawline, it was hard not to notice the increasing tension that crackled like lightning between them. The long, drawn out, moment had become physically charged with a deeply painful need. It was stretching itself out into the nadirs of eternity, a sweet but overwrought reprieve seeking to pacify the previous violence that had burned fiery bright across youthfully tanned skin. 

  
And despite the heavy undercurrent of provocation that snapped powerfully through the fizzing molecules between their bodies, that single point of contact, tenderly swiping away congealing blood from a luscious bottom lip; was more than enough to reign in any further explorations either of them hoped to entertain. This was simply _not_ the time, Harry reminded himself harshly. He would _not_ take advantage of this situation. Even if he could not totally deny having taken out his handkerchief solely for the excuse of touching Excalibur. 

  
‘Bugger,’ He hissed irritably a few intimate minutes later, a sharp thumbnail dragging salaciously sweet across a frantically beating pulse-point as sporadic groans of pain forced them to snap their attention back to reality. Offering Eggsy the pocket square just in case the wound started bleeding again, it was inevitable that they would be interrupted sooner or later. _Sooner_ if the indication of a stirring body to their left was any indication. 

  
_Damn it_ , Harry cursed. He did not want this, whatever it was, to _end_. He had just managed to completely enrapture himself to the young man sitting across from him, unwilling to offer up the easy back and forth that had started between them all those years ago. And the lingering glances of need, gentle smiles and a comfort in his own skin he had not felt for years—. 

  
_Well fuck_ , was this desperate pining not just perfect for an old man like him? And all for a young man nearly half his age? Just by what grace would his burgeoning need and dark attraction ever be returned? It was—. 

  
‘Right,’ He abruptly silenced his own thoughts by clearing his throat, ‘We should probably get going, Eggsy. A car is already waiting for us outside.’ Swiftly averting his gaze lest he drown in the complex emotions swirling within trusting viridian green depths, the older gentleman called upon years of learned propriety as he offered his hand to guide the younger agent to his feet before carefully stepping across a hapless sprawl of thugs littering his path to the door. 

  
The unconscious Land Lord, having been taken out in the midst of placing a call to the Met by tranquilizer dart from Eggsy’s Bremont watch; stirred restlessly in his slump across the bar top as quieting footsteps shuffled passed him. Harry waited patiently for the younger man to resituate his bespoke winter coat across his shoulders, _definitely_ not taking in the roll of lithe muscles beneath green and beige cashmere as the soft fabric smoothed out beneath expert touches. 

  
Deft fingertips took care to only slip the coat’s first button through its hole, a languid and more blasé style adopted by the youth of today that Harry could not deny suited Eggsy much more than being stiffly buttoned-up at all times. Holding open the front door for the agent to pass through before him, the smallest of flushes dotted pale cheeks at the Prince’s gentlemanly behaviour as the lepidopterist led them across the street where a car was already waiting patiently for their arrival. 

  
‘’Arry…that’s—.’ Grinning playfully in response to Excalibur’s incredulous surprise at just what _model_ of car was waiting for them, he couldn’t contain the chuckle that threatened to spill from lips. 

  
‘A Bentley. The Flying Spur, V8. 2015 model, completed only a few months ago as part of Her Majesty’s fleet.’ He confirmed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, though. I simply adore Kingsman taxis, they make my dull life fun. I’m afraid that once a protocol code has been requested through the Royal Family, Merlin is obliged to send out one of these specialised models.’ 

  
‘They were designed by a collaboration between MI6 and Kingsman, one of the few times they managed to work together without trying to kill each other. There’s not much of a difference in what can be expected inside and outside, the specialized features are mostly the same for all bulletproof cars. With the exception of a few extra toys, I’m sure. Merlin will be more than willing to share with you if asked.’ 

  
‘He always did adore naming his ‘babies’, this one especially since it’s practically just off the production line.’ 

  
‘Although, I haven’t had the time to ask him about it yet…’ Harry trailed off thoughtfully, briefly shaking his head to clear the swirling cobwebs that had gathered as he nodded his gratitude to the chauffeur stepping out from behind the wheel to open the door for them. Carefully guiding the young ‘tailor’ to take his seat, Harry made sure to keep the young man in his periphery at all times as he tried to make sense of the direction their simple pint in the city had taken. 

  
He couldn’t completely hide the smile that curled across his lips as he watched awed fingertips run across handstitched black leather with a moan of undisguised joy. Merlin had briefly told him about Eggsy’s incredible driving and car-lighting skills in their meeting earlier, making great emphasis on how the twenty-four-year-old had driven through half of London backwards whilst outrunning a spectacular police car chase at the same time. 

  
Now, if only he could learn to control his own unexpected responses to the young man—. 

  
‘To the Palace, please.’ He pushed aside his thoughts. ‘We’re going to be late at this rate.’ There was nothing more to be done here, after all. A clean-up crew had already been sent to their location and he still had an important meeting to attend. At least he had managed to have a lovely afternoon, he mused to himself. He wouldn’t trade meeting Eggsy for the world, regardless of how it had ended. 

**** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I truly appreciate it. 
> 
> I'll be working on an Alpha Harry x Alpha Eggsy piece to throw the normal A/B/O Dynamics into a twist for my next one-shot explicit story, hehe. Don't know how long it'll take to get out but I'm hoping to do so by the time next year rolls around soon. 
> 
> Other than, I do hope this chapter was enjoyable. If you would be so kind as to leave me a little review I'd be eternally grateful to you, it would make my day. 
> 
> Happy Holidays 
> 
> Chocolate Carnival


	3. Chapter 2: Circumboreal Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Again, My Honeys!
> 
> I apologize that it took so LONG to get this chapter out but I've been a bit overworked lately. I do hope that you enjoy this one, it is a bit darker and sadder than the previous chapters but a necessary chapter I'm afraid. 
> 
> Please enjoy, though. And if you're lucky enough to spot a grammatical or spelling error, please keep calm and carry on. The Author will eventually get it to when editing again in the next few days. :)

_Chapter 2: Circumboreal Climax_ __

It was raining, large mid-morning rivulets dancing indolently across dense bulletproof windows as the looming presence of Buckingham Palace seemed far gloomier and darker than the last time Eggsy had set foot on the grounds with the Duke of York. A vast five story structure was piercing violently through low hanging heavens, the early winter fog flowing like bitter ocean waves across usually lush emerald green gardens as curious eyes took in the line of fifteen Yeoman of the Guard dressed in full Tudor uniform before the Royal family’s private western façade entrance. 

  
Since the two blissful weeks that Excalibur had been formally appointed as His Royal Highness’ personal Knight, almost every day he accompanied the future Monarch on his duties to and from parliament and the royal residences; the castle always seemed bereft of any of the usual ceremonial pomp and circumstance one would expect with the arrival of a soon to be King. 

  
Yet today, with the normally amiable Prince stiffening visibly in his seat the moment contemplative whisky-brown orbs caught sight of a barely visible standard fluttering wildly atop the castle flagpole, Eggsy was uncertain of what he had to do to bring Harry back to himself. 

  
The fifty-three-year-old Lepidopterist seemed to have instantly withdrawn into his quieter and more unsure personality, dropping his forehead into the cradle of an elegantly leather gloved palm as an array of struggling breaths only served to highlight the fine tremor running through unexpectedly tensed shoulders. Instinctively reaching out to comfort Harry the best way he knew how, a navy pinstriped thigh pressed comfortingly against its dark grey companion as he curled gentle but grounding fingertips around a painfully tensed forearm. 

  
“Y’ alright there, guv?” He questioned quietly, a restless left-hand dipping down towards the curved handle of a black Rainmaker, resting against his thigh, just to make sure he was still fully armed before lifting a bare knuckle to trace the King’s ashen pale cheek. He didn’t know exactly what was going on at the moment, nor did he like one bit where this was going. But Eggsy could only wait patiently for Harry to respond to him. He couldn’t force the older man to talk, nor urge him towards his private suite for an early night. All he could sense was that whatever caused this reaction, it was something neither one of them had the means to escape. 

  
“Tell me what y’ need, ‘Arry.” Before he could remove a hand to open a line to Merlin in the hopes that the Scotsman could shine more light on the current situation, a deep grounding inhalation drew the twenty-five-year-old’s attention back to Harry as the Lepidopterist used the lilt of his Knight’s voice as a catalyst to resituate the icy veneer Eggsy had gotten to know intimately over the past few weeks whenever the older gentleman was deliberately cornered in political meetings. 

  
Only this time, all the usual mischief and playfulness hidden behind thick-rimmed tortoise-shell glasses had dulled to a more lifeless earthy brown. It was definitely _not_ a comforting sight. 

  
“’Arry? What the fuck—.” 

  
“Sorry, Eggsy.” The older gentleman interrupted apologetically. “Would you mind?” At Harry’s small wave towards the handle of the car door, Eggsy drew in a sharp, steadying, breath as he quietly nodded his assent. The falling raindrops outside the Bentley’s artificially heated interior was like brittle needles, a casual snap of his umbrella deploying the smooth black fabric against the weeping heavens above as he crossed the back of the car after a precursory sweep of his surroundings. 

  
There was no obvious danger present around them, assured fingertips popping open the future Monarch’s door for him as he moved close enough that the older gentleman was instantly shielded from the dripping water deluge. The early morning fog, darkening the palace’s suddenly intimidating stature as black gloved fingertips pressed a soothing touch against the dip of younger agent’s spine in comforting gesture. 

  
“Thank you.” Harry whispered graciously, dipping Eggsy’s head forward in polite nod as he kept the umbrella carefully poised above them. He was careful to remain less than half a step behind his charge, hooking a comforting finger through one of the Prince’s belt loops in a bespoke, thigh-length, grey winter coat. He didn’t want Harry to feel the loss of his silent support yet, especially when he slowed his steps just enough that Eggsy got the idea he was avoiding the CO currently standing at the top of the stairs. 

  
“Sire,” Their isolation, it seemed, couldn’t hold out for long. Several sharp eyes snapped in their direction the instant they transversed the first stair towards the top, greeted with a more subdued salute that Harry acknowledged only briefly with an overwhelming sorrow dancing in the depths of his eyes. The Commanding Officer had stepped forward to offer a carefully folded flag to the Prince, having sunk to one knee in silent supplication as trembling fingertips relieved him of his duty. 

  
“Thank you, Captain.” Harry began quietly, trembling fingertips curling tightly around his new burden as his breath shortened briefly at the implications. “I leave Buckingham’s colours in your capable hands. U-until the mourning period is complete.” He breathed with hitched breath, carefully polished black Oxfords heading through the tellingly silent Palace threshold with Eggsy only a faithful half-step behind him. 

  
Abruptly snapping the umbrella shut when they entered the lavish foyer, viridian green eyes glared at the first servant that stepped forward in an attempt to relieve him of his coat and weapon as his mind reeled internally at what Harry had just said. 

  
Mourning period. 

  
Did that mean the Queen was dead? 

  
_Fuck!_ It certainly seemed like it, the fifty-three-year-old Monarch was deathly silent beside him, merely following the lush carpeted hallways and extravagant stairs towards the Queen’s Royal Apartments as he had yet to acknowledge Eggsy’s almost far-too-close presence. The Queen’s personal servant and physician were waiting for them by the closed doors, the young agent having met them once since having accompanied Harry to the palace when Her Majesty was too ill to receive visitors. 

  
That wasn’t what he himself had learnt from the data packet Merlin forwarded him of the staff in employ. He was intimately aware of every head of staff, close relative, outside employee, assistant and advisor that could possibly pose a threat to Harry’s safety. And neither of these men ever registered as one, they had been with the family for over thirty years now and had never triggered an alert in the former Excalibur’s constant and thorough surveillance inquiries. 

  
“I’m sorry, Harry. We—.” 

  
“When? What happened?” Startling at the raw pain barely concealed in a cracking baritone, Eggsy knew instinctively that the older man was a few seconds away from losing the edge over his insurmountable self-control as he stepped forward to place a calming hand upon a trembling shoulder. The release of tension at his proximity was only slight, a shuddering breath spilling passed painfully thinned lips as green eyes caught the edge of telling saline trickling across dulled brown depths. 

  
“I apologize, Young Master.” Jennings, the head butler, said. “I did not wish for you to find out this way. Her Majesty ordered us not to contact you the night before when she had a relapse, believing it was not yet your burden to bear. Nor that it would be her last.” 

  
“She passed this morning at 4:23 A.M, barely three hours before you were expected back at the Palace. We knew there was no other choice, with no Royal in residence the flag had to be brought down and swapped as tradition dictates. I myself did not expect the Earl of Courtown to initiate the formal handover ceremony without consulting me or yourself first.” Nodding numbly at the matter-of-fact explanation, Harry briefly turned his attention to the Royal Physician for a more official explanation as he listened silently through the solemn but similar account of the night before. 

  
The Queen had died of a broken heart, too frail to have withstood having lost not only her Beloved husband but most of her children and grandchildren in the space of a single day. With Harry as the only one left to take over her duties, it seemed she felt content enough to let go and allow her youngest to rise from her ashes. The physicians words were a painful analogy for Harry to swallow, Eggsy could see. He wasn’t really paying attention to his surrounding, listening only half-heartedly to Jennings as he noted the arrangements for the press had already been made and that the announcement of his succession and coronation had been brought forward two weeks. 

  
“Excuse me,” Eggsy interrupted suddenly, employing a smooth upper-class accent to not stand out as he curled a more assured grip around Harry’s elbow to keep him steady. Holding up a hand to halt the far too one-sided conversation taking place, Eggsy didn’t much like where this was going. Harry. Just _Harry_ – the mild-mannered Lepidopterist - seemed far too withdrawn and shaky to be making any significant decisions right now. Added to the pressures of taking up the throne weeks earlier, when he often confessed he did not feel ready yet, was a little too-much-too-soon for the Kingsman’s well-trained eye. 

  
“I believe that a two-hour reprieve for his Highness is quite justified at this time.” He continued. “The Duke of York has only just found out that his mother has died, the press can wait a few hours for their formal announcement.” 

  
“It will do no good, political or otherwise, if he himself is in a vulnerable state.” Tapping his umbrella on the plush carpet with absentminded finality, Eggsy didn’t slow for the gracious ‘of course, Master Excalibur’. He merely allowed his feet to lead them down the complex hallways towards the Prince’s private suite. 

  
Pushing open the white and gold accented doors, an untouched silver tea tray had already been brought up before their arrival as he guided the older gentleman towards a plush armchair situated in the rarely used lounge area. The lavish Royal apartments were unusually dark for such an open cream and light-blue room, only the warm fire dancing orange-bright in the marble hearth, providing the faintest touch of natural warmth as flashes of lightning ignited the skies for miles on end on the other side of a carefully structured window. 

  
A sensual curl of steam was rising indolently from the cup of tea Eggsy fixed with well-practised movements, the Duke of York yet to utter a single word in his presence as elegantly gloved fingertips dragged an irritable stripe through wayward curls escaping perfectly coiffed silver-threaded chocolate locks. The fifty-three-year-old seemed more unsettled that Eggsy had ever seen him, mournful topaz eyes staring unblinkingly at the crying heavens outside as the younger agent knelt concernedly in front of his charge. 

  
“Here, I put some extra sugar in for you. Brown, not white. Just the way you like it.” Not caring one-whit about the wrinkles the action would crease in his bespoke pinstripe suit, Eggsy placed a calming hand on Harry’s knee as it suddenly became vitally important to establish physical contact. He could remember how difficult he had found his own father’s death, even when he was still so young and unable to understand what was happening. 

  
He could just image how much worse it was for Harry, he wouldn’t be given much chance to mourn in private after this. He had an entire country to appease along with his own ascension to the throne, to rule a fractured nation still reeling from the political and social blowback of an insane megalomaniac who almost succeeded in ruining humanity. 

  
“Thank you, Eggsy.” Smiling reassuringly at the quietly spoken but sincere gratitude, the twenty-five-year-old did not retract his grounding touch as he sat back on his heels and silently observed the roiling clouds rumbling outside. If Harry truly did not want him here, he had more than enough strength to ask Excalibur to leave without consequence. But Eggsy was of the firm belief that a kind hand and soothing presence in leu of judgmental and unfriendly company, was a necessary need after enduring the shock of such painful news. 

  
Grief shared was grief halved, as the saying goes. And just because Eggsy did not know the Queen personally did not mean that he couldn’t sense her son’s encompassing sorrow. The last living member of the Royal family was sipping absently at his tea, merely seeming to go through the motions of formality rather than anything else as he didn’t even bother ridding himself of his leather gloves. 

  
It was bitterly cold inside the Duke of York’s apartments, a perfect reflection of the Lepidopterist’s wavering emotions as he spent the small reprieve he had been given sorting through his reeling thoughts and rebuilding the outward control the rest of England would be expecting of him. With Eggsy a constant presence beside him, never quite saying anything except staying within touching distance; it became a little easier to breathe as he set aside now empty cup of tea and marvelled at the young agent that already had his preference for tea memorised and just how much he could and could not take when faced with the rest of the world. 

  
When he rested his palm on a beautifully bespoke pinstripe clad shoulder in silent gratitude, the tender smile he got in return was astonishing enough to steal the breath from his lungs and very briefly made him forget the aching loss sitting painfully tight in the depths of his chest. 

  
With Excalibur by his side, Harry knew instinctively that things would be alright…in time.   
  


* * * *   
  


Violently jerking awake at a rhythmic knock sounding near deafeningly on his private bedroom door, viridian green eyes barely had a moment’s notice to adjust to the pitch-black darkness filtering through the gaps between heavy brocade curtains as a familiar duel-barrel weight settled expertly in the palm of his hand. Forcing himself to blink away the heavy sleep still clinging to long black lashes, the twenty-four-year-old Excalibur stumbled restlessly to his feet as a stray hand brushing back the fall of messy copper locks across his forehead. 

  
“Master Excalibur, Sir.” Jennings’ familiar voice beseeched. “We have a bit of situation—.”   
“Right, I’m up.” He slurred in reply, knowing instinctively this was no courtesy call. It was rare for anyone to seek out the Prince’s private guard after the man himself had turned in for the night, pure instinct guiding black Kingsman glasses across the bridge of his nose as several successive blinks prompted the HUD to flicker to life right before his eyes. 

  
“I apologize for waking you, sir.” Jennings’ continued after an unsteady grip opened the door with a little too much force. The twenty-four-year-old smoothly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, patiently crossing his arms over a bare chest regardless of being dressed only in light blue pyjama bottoms. The castle’s efficient internal heating was genuinely effective enough that sleeping half-naked below soft eiderdown duvets and cotton sheets, had the ability to chase away the bitterest of British winters. 

  
“What happened?” He queried concernedly, taking in the rare sight of the obviously dishevelled white-haired butler. The old man always seemed so put together, even more than Harry regardless of the time of day or duty entrusted to him. “I’m sorry, sir. We cannot seem to locate His Majesty currently; his rooms are empty and an urgent call from—.” Holding up his hand in an indication for a moment, Eggsy tilted his head to the side as he pulled up Harry’s vitals and location beacon with carefully roving pupils. 

  
“According to his vitals however, he is neither in distress nor activated any protocols. I think he may just have retired to his private study for the night or went to visit the library like he wished.” 

  
“Thank you, Master Excalibur.” Nodding absently at the words, Eggsy blindly reached behind him to close the bedroom door with a quiet click as he stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. “I’ll go find him for you.” And with that, a newly focused intent bled through previously bleary green orbs as knowing footsteps led the twenty-four-year-old towards the flickering tracker without second thought. 

  
Considering it was the Queen’s funeral in just six hours’ time, Eggsy wasn’t really surprised that the Duke of York was not following his usual routine. Harry had a tendency to hole himself away when things got too much, either by wandering the vast gardens in search of butterflies or locking himself away in the Palace’s large Lepidoptery collection room. 

  
It had become the unusual location of the future King’s private study over the past few months he had been told, a means for the older gentleman to surround himself with something familiar rather than dark wood bookcases and dry furniture. 

  
Eggsy thought it suited Harry, the man was elegant and gentle and sweet and vastly different from the image he presented to the public. He could only smile to himself in remembrance as he recalled the first time the Lepidopterist had enthusiastically shown him his personal butterfly collection. The older gentleman’s smile had contained enough genuine joy to light up even the darkest of recesses within Buckingham Palace. 

  
But that wasn’t what his mind should be dwelling on, he scolded himself. He should be focused solely on finding the wayward Prince. Even if it didn’t take long for the location tracker to lead steady feet exactly where he thought it would, the closed doors of the Palace Collection Room. 

  
“Y’ in there, ‘Arry?” He called out with a cursory knock, a quiet sigh flowing steadily passed petal pink lips as the twenty-four-year-old noted the dim orange light illuminating a small gap between the door frame and plush cream carpet. It was definitely occupied; the stale scent of dust, preservation chemicals, rich alcohol and the soothing bergamot of Harry’s cologne dancing hauntingly upon the air the moment twin handles inched open beneath his palm. 

  
Restless green eyes instantly scanned the extensive two-story, five-room deep, space. Countless carefully crafted mahogany collection drawers, curio cabinets and four large record-keeping bookshelves, artfully surrounding the massive antique cherry desk standing imposingly before the third-story balcony French doors. His standard pistol felt unusually heavy in the palm of his hand, dragging uncertainly at the edge of his conscience as he cautiously made his way passed the previously forbidden threshold. 

  
“’Arry—?” It felt like he was stepping into a sacred space, a place only intended for a _King_ to tread. 

  
“Over here, Eggsy.” Lowering the Kingsman issue weapon with a visibly relieved sigh, Eggsy tentatively followed the sound of Harry’s distinctive baritone to where the fifty-three-year-old was sat nonchalantly on the floor, half-hidden by an eight-drawer Butterfly curio piece and his grandfather’s mahogany bureau. His naturally tall frame was reclining artfully against polished black wood, highlighting the natural curve of his spine and the dark green throw shielding his shoulders and back from the swirling midnight chill. 

  
An elaborate crystal glass was clasped assuredly in the palm of a trembling right hand, sleep mussed silver-threaded brown curls falling attractively across a pale forehead as the lines the man’s body cast in flowing grey-silk pyjamas had no _right_ looking so damnattractive on someone in their mid-fifties. His leg was absently drawn up for a stray elbow and drink to balance upon, rich whisky-brown irises glancing down at the spread of available space next to him before patting the ground for Excalibur to join him. 

  
“Jennings woke me in a panic, said y’ weren’t in y’r room, ‘Arry. An urgent—.” Before the twenty-four-year-old agent could finish the rest of his sentence, he was abruptly silenced by a violent shake of the Duke of York’s head. Restless fingertips had tightened considerably around the fine crystal tumbler in his hand, creaking glass radiating spiderweb cracks across the extravagantly worked surface before the Prince regretfully reigned back his igniting temper with simultaneously drooping shoulders. 

  
“If this has anything to do with the Crown, Eggsy. I don’t want to know. They can have the fucking _decency_ to wait until Mother is buried.” Nodding wholeheartedly at that declaration, Eggsy reached forward to relieve Harry of his drink before the older gentleman decided it was okay to consume the last dregs of glass along with fiery amber scotch. 

  
Crossing his legs to make himself a little more comfortable on the floor, a considerably tensed frame jerked slightly in surprise when a dark-green throw was held shyly in his direction. A subtle pink flush had crept across his Arthur’s pale cheeks, whisky-brown eyes absolutely refusing to look down where—. 

  
_Oh Fuck,_ Eggsy cursed internally. He had completely forgotten that he was still half naked, shivering slightly at the stale cold on this side of the Palace as a subtle but noticeable attraction blossomed brightly within alcohol dilated brown eyes. A sheepish but sincere ‘thanks’ was slipping passed thinned lips, the younger agent taking the next few minutes to silently look over his charge for any obvious signs of distress before the older man unconsciously leaned a little closer to his guard’s side. After a seemingly long and fierce internal debate, the quiet Lepidopterist laid his temple upon a newly green fabric-clad shoulder in obvious relief…almost as if Harry could finally let go of the painful emotions that waged such open war within heaving breast. 

  
There was no way the fifty-three-year-old _wasn’t_ a little drunk considering his actions, Eggsy mused. The Prince’s usual impeccable veneer was so often in control that the generous touch of pink dusting the apples of pale cheeks and fully dilated black pupils, seemed more than a little out of character. His Royal Highness would never cross so many propriety lines within a single night, especially not if he hadn’t consulted Eggsy first or decided to throw caution to the wind and draw action from the innate but buried rebelliousness of his youth. 

  
“Y’ alright there, ‘Arry?” Eggsy asked concernedly, picking up the faintest of tremors running down his side as he unconsciously raised a right hand to card through soft curly brown locks. He kept his touch gentle and kind, not entirely sure exactly what was expected of him or was appropriate in this sort of situation as a possessive sort of triumph flooded through his veins the moment the future Monarch seemed to relax more fully. 

  
The rich aroma of cologne and expensive soap was drifting a heady miasma across his senses, sending something entirely inappropriately squirming wildly within the depths of his stomach as the young Kingsman cursed the tapestry of complex emotion always weaving together so profoundly within their _every_ interaction. 

  
Why could he never seem to control himself around the older gentleman? What was it that always made him seek out a blissfully soft gaze or overly fond expression? If Excalibur’s perception wavered whenever praise or gentle words passed the Prince’s lips, did it mean he was a lovesick puppy awaiting—. 

  
“I’m tired, darling boy.” Harry answered hesitantly, briefly drawing Eggsy’s thoughts back into himself as he unconsciously pressed a soothing kiss atop downy brown locks. There was so much pain and despair weighing down those words, instantly reminding the youth that his King wasn’t really alright in that moment…he had just lost his mother for _fuck’s_ sake! And here Eggsy was taking advantage of his need for comfort and—. 

  
“Don’t.” A hoarse baritone suddenly interjected, halting the young agent’s uncertain movements to separate himself to a more respectable distance. “Please don’t! I don’t think—.” A rattling breath hitched painfully at the pained admission. “I-I don’t think I can do this, Eggsy. I wasn’t born for this, I can’t—.” With long fingertips digging desperately into the green throw curled around his shoulders, Eggsy knew exactly what was causing Harry such obvious distress as he abruptly turned his body into the older gentleman’s and leant forward to bring their foreheads together in an intimate caress. 

  
“Yes, y’ can.” He breathed soothingly, pure conviction sparking brilliant blue within peacock green irises as their breaths mingled together in a shivery fusion before a stray thumb lifted to brush away the telling brightness clinging to long black lashes. Brown eyes were wide with internal doubt, uncharacteristically shrinking away from the vast internal courage and strength Eggsy knew _intimately_ Harry possessed. 

  
This was nothing but sorrow and alcohol talking, he knew. It was a dangerous combination he himself was far too familiar with. 

  
“No Harry,” He said gently. “You know that isn’t true, you’re one of the most honourable men I have ever met. The fact that Her Majesty chose _you_ , out of the few surviving grandchildren of her direct line, means she knew your strength better than yourself.” 

  
“Harry Hart will be a fair King, an honest King and a perfectly virtuous gentleman. Someone the country is in desperate need of. As His Majesty, you are the only person I would serve for an eternity.” There was not a doubt within Eggsy’s mind, Harry was the type of man he would be honoured to serve and protect regardless of his station. There was none of the previous classist views clinging to the Monarchy, nor any of the power-hungry ambition and dangerous greed he had come across too many times in his line of work. 

  
That, in the young agent’s mind, was the mark of a compassionate leader. 

  
The Palace Collection Room settled back into a contemplative silence for several long moments after that, the young agent only absently alerting the previously distressed butler that he had found His Majesty. Only, Harry was in no sober condition to take any calls. The Lepidopterist said nothing more beside him, probably having quietly retreated back into himself as he brought a temple back to Eggsy’s shoulder and a surprising warm wetness flowed down the side of his neck. 

  
“Hush now, luv.” Excalibur cooed unconsciously, recalling all the sleepless nights he had soothed his little sister’s own distress before calming an unnaturally tense frame and stroking restful fingers through messy curls. It was getting far too late for either of them to be up, especially considering the terribly emotional day awaiting them in a few hours’ time. 

  
“Think it’s time we went te bed, guv.” He urged quietly, Eggsy himself pushing the boundaries after several long days of very little sleep and constant vigilance. He could only image what the Prince himself was feeling. And at Harry’s subtle but consenting nod, smooth fingertips shifted slipping black frame glasses up the bridge of his nose before fluidly guiding himself back to his feet. 

  
“Up y’ get, back te bed.” He teased with a cheeky wink, his palm a comforting weight in Harry’s hand as a brief hiss of surprise spilled passed pink lips the moment stumbling steps crashed their chests far too close together and the King’s taller frame loomed several imposing inches above him. _Shit!_ Eggsy cursed internally, his heart racing a painful tattoo against his chest as a low, sensual, heat hooded long black lashes and vivid green irises stared imploringly at slightly parted lips. 

  
A long-fingered hand had come up of its own accord to rest upon the side of his cheek, unconsciously tipping the guard’s head back so that bright whisky-smooth irises could lock intently with viridian green. The sensation of a contented sigh whispering petal soft across the plush of his lips, so distracting that an answering exhale hitched painfully in the back of his throat. 

  
_Fuckin’ hell!_ It happened _so_ fast and unexpectedly that Eggsy couldn’t keep reign of his strict self-control, moaning in unrestrained delight as sinfully soft lips moulded intimately across his own and the heady taste of Glendronach flooded the recesses of his mouth. A slick tongue had taken full advantage of his apparent surprise, dipping in-between the seam of parted lips as strong arms wound their bodies even closer together than strictly natural. 

  
It was arousing as _fuck_ , sending bolts of sheer sensation dancing wildly across honey-gold skin as alcohol, sorrow and sleep deprivation levelled their internal inhibitions into nothingness. Eggsy no longer gave a single fuck about propriety or the wrongness of the situation, basking blissfully in the sensual entanglement of slick tongues until it became far too difficult to breathe and a sharp nip of affection stung the surface of his bottom lip. 

  
“Fuck!” He moaned in apparent surprise, momentarily closing his eyes against the lingering fondness swelling in his gut as Harry brought their foreheads together again. He could see the similar surprise and heated arousal shimmering deep within brown eyes, a quietly fond smile drifting across pale lips just for him as Eggsy returned the tender expression and boldly captured a drop of Harry’s saliva with the tip of his tongue. 

  
“Bed luv,” Eggsy whispered sternly, a flicker of regret shadowing sharp green eyes at the reminder that the Prince was in a vulnerable state right now and didn’t need the complicated emotional rollercoaster of bedding his Excalibur without any true want. No, neither of them could indulge in whatever it was that always drew them into orbit around each other…not now. 

  
“If y’ still want this when sober, ‘Arry.” A quiet tenor said carefully. “We can try again. But I don’t want y’ te regret this in the mornin’ or merely indulge me for a single night.” And with that, steady fingertips curled around Harry’s left hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss of fidelity. 

  
“Long live mine King.” He murmured reverently, bright adoration flickering within lust darkened irises as an old grandfather clock struck 3 A.M in the morning. Whether Harry would believe this was all an alcohol fuelled dream or a single moment of clarity by morning, only time would tell. 

* * * * 

A waft of humid steam was dancing restlessly upon the air, the soothing phantasia of an extravagant rainfall shower echoing melodiously against dark bathroom tiles as dazed whisky brown orbs scarcely paid attention the surrounding room around him. Fleeting images of dreams and hazy memories were flashing hauntingly behind partially closed eyelids, the startlingly vivid sensation of Eggsy’s lips moulding to his own still lingering vibrantly in the forefront of his mind as it carved a quietly satisfied moan from the deepest depths of his throat. 

  
_Shit!_ Harry had never expected to lose so much control over of his inhibitions after only a few glasses of scotch and too much stress. But he couldn’t quite seem to find any regret inside himself. He had shamefully wanted to lay claim to Excalibur’s luscious mouth ever since he had first encountered the young man a little over four years ago, having only intermittent success these days in concealing his inherent attraction to the boy. 

  
And Eggsy, Eggsy had responded so beautifully to him…giving himself over to the eroticism of their brief but sweet entanglement with unrestrained abandon and sensually fluttering lashes. The darling had wanted him just as much as he wanted him, making it near impossible for Harry to hold himself back much longer…not after he had heard the honest conviction concealed in the young man’s encouraging words. 

  
It had turned him into a mess of sensation and need and desperation, still skittering unfulfilled across the edge of his senses as a familiar, rhythmic, throb thickened and hardened the length of his cock. Pressing a calming forehead against the expanse of cool tile in front of him, it seemed like a near impossible uphill battle to contain the lust burning fever-bright just inside the cusp of his awareness. 

  
Could he afford to lose control of himself, he asked himself. Only he would know he had been unable to resist the rising rapture, yes, but it was also his mother’s funeral in a few hours. It took an unbelievable amount of self-control and freezing water temperatures to calm the ardour just enough to finish his shower and seal away the desperate need blooming so indulgently inside him. 

  
Today was a day of mourning and sorrow, he reminded himself. Not indulgent and sweet, not _yet_. Harry’s precious Excalibur hadn’t rejected him last night, had merely said that they could wait to take their relationship further. And as bare feet stepped outside the shower to complete the rest of his morning routine, he was very careful to lock away the more inappropriate thoughts and rebuild the stoic British veneer the rest of the world would be watching for today. 

  
The formal contours of a black, red and gold Major General of the Royal Marines uniform, falling perfectly tailored from broad shoulders and a formally straightened back as careful fingertips checked the state of several service medals and the swaying tassels of a gold and red belt. The braided lapels and stiff collar, briefly drawing whisky brown eyes towards the perfect symmetry upon his form as he resituated the hem of black and red trousers across the polished surface of black Oxfords. 

  
He forewent the formal sword, knowing intimately it would only get in the way today as one last look resettled a stray brown curl having tumbled out of its precious pomade mould and slid tortoise-shell glasses across the bridge of his nose. The hands of his watch already indicated the time as mid-to-late morning, taking one last steadying breath to settle his lingering nerves before he opened the suite doors. 

  
Excalibur was already waiting for the King’s arrival, looking devilishly handsome in a perfectly tailored black Kingsman suit and formal Royal Marine tie. The flicker of black red and gold placed him in perfect compliment to the Duke of York, a shaft of natural sunlight shimmering iridescent copper off of parted and partially slicked black burnished russet locks. He was offering the quiet Lepidopterist the shyest and most lovingly hopeful smiles he ever had the pleasure to witness. 

  
He couldn’t quite stop himself from reaching for the younger man’s right hand, bringing bruised knuckles from an overenthusiastic spar with one of the Yeoman a few days ago, to his lips as he delighted in the delicate blush it chased across pale cheeks. The boy was utterly stunning in that moment, enough to nearly break the heavy chain he had locked around his heart earlier that morning as pale lips whispered reverently across the gold signet ring matching the one on his right pinkie. 

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He said sincerely, a thousand unspoken words of gratitude, hope, desire, fondness, love and hesitation lingering in the air between them as he straightened himself for the reply he had been unable to give the night before. 

  
“Entering into a relationship with me isn’t going to be easy, darling boy.” Brushing stray knuckles across a flushed cheek, Harry was quick to calm the regret he could already see forming within bright viridian green irises. “But do not doubt that I want this _very_ much, more than should ever be allowed. We’ll face opposition and ridicule at many turns, I do not wish to hide you away like some dirty secret so all I ask is some time more, please.” 

  
“A little more time to—.” 

  
“Yes, Harry.” A forefinger had come to rest across his lips in an indication of silence, shimmering green eyes locking fondly with whisky-brown as the younger man stepped onto the tips of his toes to press a gentle kiss against the centre of the future Monarch’s forehead. “I’ll wait for you however long it takes.” 

  
“Now come, we’re going to be late. I’ll always be a half-step behind you, luv.” Harry appreciated the sentiment more than any words could describe, a tentative smile ticking up the corner of pale lips as he allowed the young Kingsman to lead him through the complex Palace hallways towards a familiar idling Bentley. The entire palace was a flurry of activity and noise around them, the head servants and staff preparing for the small party of dignitaries and remaining family members returning for lunch as they followed the protocols the Queen laid in place for her London Bridge initiative. 

  
Now that the stay of her body in Westminster Hall had reached its three-day vigil, she could finally be laid to rest in St George’s Chapel beside her Prince Consort. The gun carriage procession back to Windsor was any royal guard’s personal nightmare however, leading their charge so out in the open with only minimal time to scan the pressing crowds for any viable threat. 

  
But Harry had the utmost faith in his darling Excalibur, Eggsy had yet to disappoint him in anything. And with the knowledge that Merlin and several of the other Kingsman agents were stationed along the route for extra protection, he could breathe a little easier and allow the smallest amount of tension to bleed from his shoulders. 

  
Playful green eyes offered him a brief wink as his Knight opened the sleek black door for him, ushering him into the interior of the bulletproof car with a formal bow before they could draw too much attention from their surroundings. The silence inside the vehicle was heavy with emotion and conflicted duty, for Harry especially. But he employed whatever method he could to force himself through the damnedable day, for Mother and Father he reminded himself - whom they had also buried like this four days after V-Day. 

  
The pain and expectation from then would never quite leave him, he could still recall his mother’s sorrowful voice that same night as she told him she was handing over responsibility of the Crown to him. He had fought her at first, knowing he had never in his fifty-three-years trained to take over the throne like his brother and his children had. But there was no one left to entrust the duty too, His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Adair Hart, Duke of York, was the last surviving member of Her Majesty’s children. 

  
He was also the only one who knew how much Mother hated the idea of handing complete control of the Kingdom over to the greed of Parliament. So much so, he agreed after a mere week. He never could defy her for long, even if he was intimately aware he was not born a King nor would he ever be able to see himself as an acceptable one. 

  
Turning cautious eyes towards the thousands of curious observers following the path of the escorted Bentley outside the Palace gates, he was vaguely aware of Eggsy holding a hushed conversation with Merlin on the other side of his glasses as a nation’s palpable grief settled like a cloud over the first sunny day in over a week. 

  
It seemed the winter storm had finally abated enough to bring with it the scent of change, a new and unexplored prosperity weaving through the blue horizons as a warm body shifted closer to his side to provide a pillar of support he was not ashamed to take advantage of. 

  
Eggsy was all beautiful strength and deadly grace, soft emotion and fierce caring he had tasted for the first time the night before. And if a black leather gloved hand slipped knowingly into his palm, he did not have the internal strength to pull away or deny himself the comfort. There was no more need for him to be afraid, not when it was just the two of them far, far away from harsh reality and the scrutinizing public eye. 

When they finally reached a crowded Westminster Hall fifteen minutes later, it took a few long moments before the Prince was ready to step outside the car to the hushed murmurs of the public and a full military escort awaiting his presence. His darling Eggsy did not push him however, staying carefully silent by his side as sharp green eyes kept a constant eye trained on the outside surroundings from behind the lenses of black framed glasses. 

  
In the distance Her Majesty’s favourite bagpipes sounded mournfully through the air, urging polished black Oxfords to take their rightful place behind the coffin and the royal crown resting atop the family colours. Millions of people would be watching, waiting for their King to be crowned in the next week. 

  
The shoes he had to fill were big ones, a duty he himself knew could no longer shy away from. 

* * * *   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 1* - CTCRM - Commando Training Centre Royal Marines 
> 
> I do not claim to be an expert on the Royal Court or the way the Military works but I will do my research as necessary, Honeys. Other than that, I do hope that you enjoyed the Prologue. Chapter 1 will be up in a week or two. Depending on how inspired I am to write. 
> 
> I'd really appreciate a review if possible, it would make my entire day. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, 
> 
> Chocolate Carnival


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